Story: Colonel Williams, Ch. 9, pt. I

Here is the first of the two parts I have so far of Chapter 9. I will try to get the rest of it written over Labor Day weekend, and then I am going to put this story on hiatus until after soccer season because I do not have time right now to write more. Enjoy the first part!

Chapter 9 – The Escape

Williams, Alejandro, and Roderick stared at each other in shock. Williams managed to recover his voice first. “Did she say what her name was?” he asked.
“No,” replied his son, “she didn’t, but she’s waiting in your office for you.”
“All right,” Williams said, still dazed at the revelation, “I’ll go talk with her.” He invited Alejandro to come along, saying only that there was a runaway slave that he wanted Alejandro to meet.
They climbed the short flight of steps that led into the house, pushed open the white doors, and went to Williams’ office. As they entered the office, they saw the tall form of a woman, standing with her back to them and staring out over the fields.
Williams stopped just inside the door to his office. “Señora,” he said in Spanish, “I am Colonel Williams, the owner of this estate. My son told me that you wish to speak with me.”
“Yes,” replied the woman in Spanish as she turned around. She was a beautiful woman of no more than thirty. Her dark brown hair hung past her shoulders. Her face seemed tired, as one who had just traveled through many trials but had finally found a resting place.
“I wanted to speak with you…” She trailed off, unable to finish her thought. She had seen Alejandro.
“Alejandro?” she cried excitedly.
“Maria!” exclaimed Alejandro, running over to her. They embraced as only reunited lovers long-separated could.
“How did you get here?” Maria asked in amazement after a minute of the two enjoying each other’s presence.
“That is what I wanted to ask you,” replied Alejandro.
“Well, it is a long story, and I really need to talk with the Colonel a minute…”
“That’s fine,” Williams interrupted, “take your time, Maria. I want to hear your story, too. We’ve been searching for you for several days now. I’m amazed that you are here.”
“I am more amazed that Alejandro is here,” responded Maria. “I thought that I would never see him again after we were separated in the market.”
“We might never have seen each other,” Alejandro said, “if Colonel Williams had not redeemed me from the man who bought me.”
“That is why I am here,” replied Maria. “I heard one of the other slaves talking about a man who redeemed slaves from their owners and then allowed them to work for him, free of slavery. Are you that man, Colonel?”
“I am,” Williams answered, “and I have papers here from Mr. Walters – the man who bought you – that transfer your services to me. You are now in my care. You and Alejandro are welcome to stay here as long as you wish.”
“Thank you!” Maria and Alejandro said in unison. They looked lovingly at each other afterwards, and the conversation lapsed into silence for a brief period of time.
“Maria,” Williams finally asked, “would you be willing to tell us now how you escaped from Mr. Walters?”
“I would be glad to,” answered Maria. “We should sit, though, because this is a long story.”
Williams pulled together three chairs, and all three sat down.
“It all started,” Maria began, “on the day that I was sold to Mr. Walters…”

Story: Colonel Williams, Ch. 8, pt. V

Upon arriving, they found that Walters had indeed returned. He stood face to face with a tall, scrawny man with a sunburned complexion, disheveled hair, and missing teeth. From the postures of the two men, Williams could tell that Walters was ferociously rebuking the unkempt man.
As the cart pulled up, Walters ceased his verbal battering of the unfortunate man long enough to greet Williams and company. “Any success on your hunt, Colonel?”
Williams shook his head. “Unfortunately not. We tried to see if she had passed by the bridge on the edge of town, but there are no clues that she has.”
“Well, my men are still searching out east. They hadn’t found anything when I left them ten minutes ago. I just got back here myself and was questioning Neol about this woman’s disappearance. So far, he hasn’t been too forthcoming.”
“I’d a-gladly tell you all that you wanted to know, Mr. Walters,” replied Neol. He spoke with a thick country accent that had a slight lisp due to his missing teeth, “but you ain’t let me get so much as a single word in.”
“Quiet, fool!” Walters bellowed, raising his right hand as if he were going to hit the slave. “You only speak when I ask you questions, is that understood?”
“Yes, Mr. Walters,” Neol responded automatically, dropping his eyes to the ground.
“Now, explain to me how it is that you mishandled your duties and let that cursed woman escape!” thundered Walters.
“Well, sir,” Neol said hesitantly, clearly searching for just the right words that would appease his master’s vast anger to some degree, “I was a-standin’ guard just the way Tyrone and you has taught me, and the woman said that she needed to visit the bathroom. Well, I a-told there weren’t no way that I was about to let her get out of that there place because Mr. Walters had given me strict orders that she was to remain right there.
“Well, she done got this horrible, sad look in her eyes, and I thought she was break down and bawl right there on the spot. ‘Please, sir,’ she said in a sobbin’ voice, ‘let me go. I will be back quickly, but I must go now.’ Then she gave me the most pathetic look I’ve done seen since that time when I was a kid and my puppy wanted some extra food from me. Man, that was a good dog, was old Pontrus. Why, did you know that he…”
Walters glared at Neol in a way that made it clear he was not interested in the exploits of “old Pontrus”.
“Anyway,” continued Neol, “I guess you could say I got a soft side for ladies, especially ones that’s gotten themselves in trouble. I knew this woman was in some sort of awful pain because I’d a-heard her bawlin’ all through the week. So, I figured I could be nice for once and do her a favor.
“Well, I go to unlock the door, pull it open, and the next thing I know, wham! I get hit in the back of the neck with some sort of devilish punch. It must-a knocked me out cold, ‘cause the next I remember is wakin’ up on the ground with a terrible pain in my head and the woman I was a-supposed to guard gone!”
“And that’s when you immediately took off after her instead of notifying someone of her escape?” queried Walters, his anger in no way appeased by the story.
“Well,” Neol hesitated, “yes, sir, I – I didn’t know quite what to do. Ain’t never had no one escape on me before. I quickly went towards the creek ‘cause I figured if I was a-runnin’ away, that’s the route I would-a taken. There, I saw her foot marks in the mud, and I jumped on over and started sprintin’ after her.”
“How long were you searching before Tyrone found you and sent you back here?”
“I don’t rightly know, but it must-a been no more than an hour or so.”
“Which means she had nearly a two hour head start,” muttered Walters to himself. He shouted out to one his nearby servants to come take charge of Neol. “Put him in the cell that previously held the crying woman,” he ordered, “and see to it that he does not escape. I will deal with him later.”
The slave nodded and led the loquacious Neol away.
Walters turned to Williams, who had just finished explaining what had happened to Alejandro. “I’m sorry you had to hear that, gentlemen,” Walters said, “but Neol clearly hasn’t done job well. If he had been a little more astute, none of this would have happened.”
“There is not much that he could have done,” Alejandro countered with Williams translating for him. “My wife is very clever at getting her way. If she had not succeeded with Neol, she would have waited and tricked another of your guards.”
Walters responded, “Well, if you say so. Now, gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to take care of some other business affairs. You may show yourselves off of my property. Please understand that I mean you no ill intent when I say that I never wish to see you again.”
He turned and was about to storm off when Williams called after him. “Mr. Walters, what about the paperwork for this missing woman?”
Walters spun around slowly. “What about it?” he asked menacingly.
“You had promised,” answered Williams calmly, “that you would write a letter to your lawyer asking him to write up papers that would transfer the services of this woman to me.”
Walters rolled his eyes slightly. “True,” he said through clenched teeth, “I did. Well, if you will follow me to my office, I will write the letter; you can take it to my lawyer. He’ll take care of it from there.” He walked into the building and Williams followed him in.
Five minutes later, Williams emerged alone with a sealed envelope that indicated Walters’ lawyer as its recipient. Climbing on the cart, Williams let Roderick drive back to town. In town, they stopped briefly at the lawyer’s office, which was a block north and a block west of the road that ran over the eastern bridge.
Upon returning to the cart, Roderick asked, “Where to now, sir?”
“Home to Providence,” replied Williams, “just long enough to organize everyone into search parties. We are going to search for this woman for as long as it takes to find her.”
“And do you think that we’ll find her, sir?”
“I do, but it may not be easy. I’m going to working out the details of how the search is going to work as we ride back to Providence.”
Roderick snapped the reins and made a clicking sound to the horse pulling the cart, and the horse sprang forward, pulling the cart behind it all the way to Providence.
The sun was sinking nearer to the horizon by the time the cart arrived back at the south gate to the estate. There to greet it stood Jayson and José.
Jayson smiled warmly, “Welcome, home, Dad. I didn’t expect to beat you here. What have you three been up to?”
Before Williams could respond, José said excitedly, “Colonel, there is another guest, but perhaps I should let Jayson tell you more about her.”
“Another guest?” a perplexed Williams asked. “Do you mean Darla?”
“No, Dad,” answered Jayson, “it’s a runaway slave who came here seeking you in order to be bought out of slavery. I didn’t know you did that sort of thing. What have you been up to these past few weeks?”
“I’ll tell you more about it later,” Williams replied. “Right now, I want to talk to this runaway slave. Where can I find him?”
“I’ll take you there right now,” said Jayson. “Oh, and Dad, it’s not a him; it’s a her, a tall, slender, Cuban woman.”

Story: Colonel Williams, Ch. 8, pt. IV

I'll try to keep posting twice a week -- Wednesday and Saturday, but there will be occasional interruptions. Here is the fourth (of five) part of Chapter 8.

Williams, Roderick, and Alejandro climbed back into the cart and made their way back to the main road. From there, they turned headed back towards town. Although they figured that Maria would probably have taken a westward course through the wooded area that lay north of Walters’ land, Williams knew that she would eventually have had to have left the woods and found a way to cross the river that stood on the edge of town.
“The only way she could do that, really,” explained Williams, “is to have gone to the bridge that lies right along the main road. Our starting point should be that bridge. We can ask people if they’ve seen Maria and then work our way backwards until we pick up her trail.”
“Do you think we’ll be able to pick up her trail at all, sir,” asked Roderick, “if Alejandro’s right about how good she is at avoiding capture?”
“I don’t know, but we’ve got to try.”
They arrived at the bridge, an unimpressive concrete-and-steel structure that led over the small river that marked the eastern edge of town. The bridge itself curved upward to a peak as it made its way over the river valley, peaking seven feet above its starting point before dropping back down to the other side. At some point, this river had been considered navigable, but irrigation and drier weather in the past forty years had ceased to make traversable by any but the smallest of boats. Thirty-five feet below the bridge ran the river, a narrow ribbon of quiet water that leisurely wound its way down to the Atlantic, becoming a mighty river by the time it arrived. From across the river, high up on the opposite bank, sat the town. People bustled about busily as the noon hour approached, many heading back to their homes for lunch.
Williams drove the cart over the bridge and found a convenient hitching post just on the far side. Tying up the horse, he and Roderick climbed out and began to talk with the people passing by. Their questioning met with little success.
“A Cuban woman, you say,” asked an older man, whose vision clearly was fading. “I haven’t seen anyone like around here in many days; course, I haven’t much of anything too clearly in the past couple of years.”
“I’m just passing through and haven’t seen anyone,” replied the local tailor to Roderick’s questioning. “I’m on my way to try to find someone to repair the axle on my cart. I had to swerve off the road to keep from running over an old man in a mule cart, and I think I damaged my axle in the process. It broke on me after I had traveled about a mile from town.”
A busy mother with two rambunctious children in two provided them with a slight hint. “I may have seen someone like that (Timmy, get back here with Mommy, okay), but I’m not sure. (Suzzie, get up out of the dirt.) I saw a lot of people go by me today, and I’ve had my hands full, as you can see. (We’ll get home in a minute, Suz; I’m trying to help this man find a friend of his.) Sorry I can’t be of more help, but I have to get these two back home before they get any more cranky. (Timmy, put the frog down and get back here immediately!) If you’ll excuse me, Colonel…”
After an hour of intense questioning and searching, a dejected Williams and Roderick returned to the cart, discussing the different conversations. As they neared the cart, they noticed that Alejandro was not there. “Oh, no,” Williams sighed in frustration, “where has he gone to this time?”
His question was answered moments later by the appearance of Alejandro over the crown of the bridge. He walked slowly, clearly pondering a dilemma. He held a small scrap of blue cloth in his hand.
“Where did you go, Alejandro?” Williams demanded in Spanish.
“I was bored,” answered the Cuban, “so I walked back over the bridge to see if I could find anything on the other side. I looked in the plants on the edges of the road, and I found this laying on the ground.” He held up the cloth, a deep blue material in a ragged state of repair. “Maria wore a dress of about this color,” he continued, “a week ago at the market. This could be hers. Maybe she got it caught on some thorns and had to tear this piece away to free herself.”
“Let me see it,” requested Williams. After examining it, he said, “It could be. Can you show me where you found it?”
Alejandro led Williams and Roderick back over the bridge. As they arrived on the far bank, he turned to the left and led them down into a ditch that ran along the side for drainage. Within the ditch grew several small, prickly bushes that seemed to delight in snagging any who dared walk near them. They scoured the area, hoping to find some sign of recent activity in the area.
Finally, Roderick found something on the edge of the gully near the road: tire tracks from a heavily-loaded cart. Apparently, some sort of shipping cart had strayed briefly from the road and beaten down the grass. As they looked at the tire tracks, the wind gusted and what looked like brightly-colored leaves fluttered up from among the prickly bushes before settling again.
Williams quickly grabbed a couple of them out of the bushes. As he did so, he gave a cry of disappointment. “So much for our hope of someone hiding here,” he lamented. In his hand he held two scraps of cloth, one red and one yellow, both lavishly bright, but clearly made of a similar material to the one Alejandro had found. “Maria wasn’t wearing either of these colors, was she, Alejandro?”
Alejandro shook his head but did not say a word.
“Where could all of these pieces of cloth have come from?” wondered Williams out loud, meaning his question to be rhetorical.
“I think I know, sir,” Roderick answered. “Remember the tailor I told you about? He mentioned that he had to swerve off of the road to avoid someone. Could these fabric pieces be scraps from his cart?”
“I suppose so,” responded Williams sadly. “From these other pieces, anyway, it seems to me that what Alejandro found is not going to be of any help to us.”
The three men returned to the road and walked back into town. Just as they arrived back at their cart, they could faintly hear the town clock striking half past the hour. “It’s 2:30,” observed Williams; “let’s head back to Walters’ plantation to see if he’s back there or had any success. Maybe we were wrong to think that Maria came this way.”
They climbed into the cart and rode quietly back to Walters’ estate.

Story: Colonel Williams, Ch. 8, pt. III

Here is the next part, as promised.

Williams nodded and translated the question and his answer to keep Alejandro in the conversation. “I do. I’m guessing that Alejandro’s wife – Maria – probably started east as a ruse to confuse her pursuers. I can’t imagine that someone as knowledgeable in escape and evasion as she is would intentionally leave footprints that clearly marked her path unless it was divert her captors. She’s probably changed course and is heading somewhere else now.”
“But where would she go?” Alejandro asked.
“I’m not sure,” answered Williams, “but the first direction that I’m going to search is back towards town. If she put false tracks to the east, then it seems logical that she would head in the opposite direction.”
“Wouldn’t she expect her pursuers to try that as well?” Roderick questioned.
“No,” replied Williams, “I don’t think so. She knew that they saw her as a lost, confused foreigner. I’m sure that they’ve underestimated her ability to evade them.”
Before he could say any more, Walters rode up on a horse, a tall, imposing charger, dark brown with a black mane. It stamped the ground and looked every bit as fiery as its master. Walters controlled the horse with the skill of a master horseman.
“I’m going to check up on my men out east,” he said. “Are you all going to come with me?”
“No,” answered Williams, “we’re going to head out to the west, back towards town in case she headed back that way.”
Walters gave Williams a surprised look. “If you really think that’s a good idea, Colonel, then go ahead, but based off of the tracks we found in the stream, I don’t think you’ll find anything.”
“We’ll still try that way,” said Williams, “just in case.”
“Very well,” Walters responded flatly, “if you want to waste your time, then go right ahead. If you get tired of your goose chase and want to join us, come back here and wait for me. I’m going to search for a couple of hours, but I have better things to do than search for a runaway. I’ll see you later this afternoon, Colonel.” With a yell, he firmly kicked his horse in its sides and galloped away on it to the east.

Story: Colonel Williams, Ch. 8, pt. II

Sorry, I'm a day late. Here's the next part of Chapter 8. The next part will not be posted until Sunday at the earliest. With the school year and soccer season starting, I am not sure how much more I will post. It all depends on how busy my schedule is and how much more I can write.

Williams stared at Alejandro. “Your wife is a spy?” he asked in irritation and disbelief.
“She was, but she is not one anymore,” Alejandro answered. “She quit her spying when she joined the rebels who fight against the current government.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” Williams inquired.
“It did not occur to me to mention it. We left that life behind when we fled from our farm.”
“But I thought it was the rebels who destroyed your farm,” Williams protested.
“One group did, Señor, because they did not know that she had joined another party of the rebellion.”
“We’re wasting time,” Walters growled, “How do we find her?”
“I am not sure that you can,” replied Alejandro. “She knows how to hide in any cover, and she can survive for days in the country without being seen by anyone.”
“And we’re surrounded by thick forest,” Walters added in dejection. “So, we have no hope of finding her, then?”
“None.”
“Unless,” interrupted Williams, “we can figure out where she might be headed. Do you know, Alejandro, why she might have waited until today to run away? Why not flee sooner?”
“I do not know. Perhaps she was waiting for me to come find her and finally gave up, but I cannot imagine her giving up so easily.”
“Mr. Walters,” Williams asked, “can you think of any reason why she might have run away?”
“No, Colonel,” replied Walters, “I can’t, unless…” He paused in thought for several seconds. “…unless it was because of my insistence that she starting working for me,” he finished. “I had grown tired of her constant refusals to do even simple household chores. I don’t keep servants around who aren’t doing any good. I told that if she didn’t shape up and start working me, then I was going to make life unpleasant for her. I pulled out the whip and cracked it a few times over her just to make the point.”
As soon as Williams had finished his translation of this, Alejandro jumped out of the cart straight at Walters, calling him several foul names in Spanish and pummeling him with ferocious punches. Williams and Roderick quickly leaped off the cart and restrained him before he did any serious damage to Walters.
“Your friend here has a fiery temper, Colonel,” observed Walters rubbing the newly-forming bruise on his right cheek. “You’d best take care of him before he finds himself in serious trouble. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to see how the search party is forming.”
“Let us come with you, Mr. Walters,” Williams requested. “We might be able to help you with the search.”
“What do you think you can do?”
“I was in the military at one time,” replied Williams, “and I know a little bit about escape and evasion. I might be able to give your searchers some ideas of where to look. Besides, even if you do track her down, she’s not going to come back here willingly. Let Alejandro go along. He might be able to convince her to come quietly.”
“Besides, there’s still the matter of us taking her from you,” added Roderick.
“If we can find her,” Walters responded, “she’s all yours. I’ll write a letter to my lawyer to have the papers drawn up, and I’ll send it in later today.”
Just as Walters finished speaking, Tyrone ran up. “Mr. Walters,” he said, huffing, “I’ve organized every available man to go search the country side. And Neol is not around. I’m guessing he’s gone after that woman. There are two sets of footprints in the mud along the stream. It looks like they both crossed over it and headed east, away from town.”
“Head that way,” ordered Walters, “follow him, and quickly!”
Tyrone nodded and ran off to lead the search team.
“Gentlemen,” Walters said with obvious frustration, “if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to have my stableman get a horse ready for me to ride. I’ll be back in a minute.” He stormed off to the stables.
As soon as he was out of earshot, Roderick spoke. “Quite an interesting man, this Mr. Walters,” he said ironically. He paused before asking, “Colonel, do you have a plan in mind for the search?”

Story: Colonel Williams, Ch. 8, pt. I

Chapter 8 – The Runaway

They arrived at the large plantation. Walters had the coachman drop him off at the front of the house. The coach continued on to the carriage house while Williams stopped his cart in front of the main house. After a minute, Walters returned to their cart, but before Williams could say anything, a slave greeted Walters.
“Mister Walters, thank goodness you’ve arrived,” the man said in a thick Southern accent. “We’ve got a problem, sir.”
Walters looked displeased. “What’s wrong, Tyrone?” he demanded.
Tyrone hesitated, and then answered, “Do you remember the new woman you brought here the other week, sir, the one who couldn’t stop crying and wouldn’t work?”
“I remember her,” Walters answered with hesitation, “what’s happened to her?”
“She’s gone, sir?”
“Gone?”
“Yes, sir, she’s run away.”
“What! How! Are you responsible for this, Tyrone?” exploded Walters
“N-no, sir,” answered Tyrone haltingly, “It wasn’t on my shift. She snuck off about three hours ago, on Neol’s shift.”
“I want to talk to Neol as soon as possible, Tyrone, and I want you to organize search parties to find her as quickly as possible. She can’t have gone far in three hours.”
“Yes, sir,” Tyrone answered, and ran off to gather the required men to scour the surrounding countryside.
Walters shook his head and walked over to Williams and company, who were still seated in the cart. Williams was just finishing an explanation to Alejandro of what had happened.
“She will not be easy to find,” Alejandro warned, and Williams translated the remark for Roderick and Walters. He functioned as a translator throughout the conversation.
“Why not?” Walters asked.
“She knows how to escape and avoid being caught,” Alejandro replied, clearly attempting to say as little as possible.
“What is she,” probed Walters intensely, “military? She didn’t seem to be of that sort of person to me.”
“No, she is not a member of the military,” Alejandro answered. “She is the daughter of one of Cuba’s top diplomats and a former spy.”

Story: Colonel Williams, Ch. 7, pt. VIII

About twenty minutes later, Walters and his lawyer emerged. Walters seemed to be in a much better mood, a small smile on his face.
Williams saw his chance. Standing up, he approached Walters and introduced himself.
“Nice to meet you, Colonel,” Walters replied. “What do you want?”
He certainly is to the point, Williams thought. “I am looking for a woman, the wife of this man here,” he said, pointing to Alejandro. “We think that you may have bought her last week at Mr. Johnson’s market. If she is indeed in your service, we’d like to see if there’s some way we could buy her from you.”
Walters looked at Williams for a moment before saying, “This woman you seek, is she American?”
Williams shook his head, “She is Cuban.”
Walters nodded. “Then I know who you’re talking about. I bought three people last week, all of them women, but there was one I bought, a tall, slender, darker-skinned woman in her early thirties, who has done nothing but cry in the past week. You’re welcome to come back with me to my estate to make sure that she is the right one. Then, we can discuss a suitable financial arrangement.” His eyes lit up greedily when he said the final three words.
Williams suddenly had the feeling that it was going to be far more expensive to rescue Maria than it had been to rescue Alejandro. “Very well,” he answered, “we’ll follow you back to your estate. We’ll have to walk back to the market to get my cart, though. Where should we meet?”
“Back here. My coach is right outside, and I will wait for you.”
Williams agreed, and he, Roderick, and Alejandro all headed back to the market to pick up the cart. Within twenty minutes, they had returned back to the town hall. Walters and his coach waited there. Without a word, he climbed inside. The driver cracked the whip over the two horses that pulled it, and the coach sprang forward. Williams followed in the cart, wondering how far they would have to go and whether they would be able to come to any sort of good agreement to a man who had so far shown himself selfish. The ride to Walters’ estate took twenty minutes. No one spoke on the way.

Rambling: Flirting, Saudi Style

I ran across an interesting (and unusual) article from the AP about the dating culture of Saudi Arabia. The full text of it can be found here. This strange story is proof that you can't make up stuff like this.
This story is about flirting in the gender-segregated Saudi society. Strick Islamic law forbids the interaction of women with men who are unknown to them. To get around these restrictions, the violation of which could result in arrest by the religious police, singles use Bluetooth-enabled phones and computers to communicate with the opposite sex. Bluetooth is a standard that allows cell phones and other electronic devices to communicate with each other directly, instead of having to connect to the Internet or a phone network first. Because of how segregated Saudi society is, using Bluetooth to interact with unknown members of the opposite sex is attractive to technology-savy Saudis. And I'm guessing that it's much more efficient than the older, lower-tech way of flirting (and I'm not making this up): "throwing phone numbers at women through car windows". Go figure. :-)

Story: Colonel Williams, Ch. 7, pt. VII

“ ‘His office is just down the hall,’ Creedy replied. He must have pointed out the direction to Walters. I didn’t hear him say any more. Instantly, I heard the pounding of heavy footsteps approaching my door. The pounding on the floor became a pounding on my door. Walters must have knocked with a closed fist.
“I welcomed him in, had him sit down, and asked him what I could do for him. He proceeded to tell me the same story that you have just told me, although his description of the situation was much more colorful than yours, Bill. The man certainly can curse like a sailor when he wants to.
“Anyway, his basic complaint was that he hadn’t gotten the value he’d been promised out of the slave he’d bought. He wanted his money back and a new slave on top of that. I told that he could file a civil suit if he wished, but that I couldn’t do anything unless he or his lawyer filled out the necessary paperwork.
“ ‘Fine,’ he replied, ‘I’ll go get my lawyer and be back here within the hour.’ With that, he abruptly stood up and left without saying another word.
“So, Bill,” McDaniel concluded, “you may not have seen him heading off towards home. He may simply have been headed to his lawyer’s office and not back home.” He paused before continuing, “But, if you wanted to talk with him, you’re welcome to wait around here until he comes back.”
“We’ll wait, then, Paul,” Williams replied.
“That’s fine,” McDaniel said, “just sit outside my door. If Walters doesn’t talk to you on his way in to filing the papers, I’ll make sure that he does on his way out.”
Williams thanked the judge, and moved out to the hall along with Alejandro and Roderick. As they waited, Williams explained the entire situation to Alejandro. Just as Williams finished, the large form of Walters appeared from around the corner of the hallway.
Walters strode purposefully forward, moving quickly. A thin, pale man followed him, apparently his lawyer. The thin man looked nervous and sickly, as if he feared the sun and emerged only from his lair at night. He held a small briefcase in one hand.
Williams looked right at Walters, hoping to make eye contact and get a word with him before he went in to see McDaniel. Walters’ was so focused on his current mission, though, that he did not even notice the three men who sat on a bench just outside of the judge’s office. He knew why he had come, and he wasn’t interested in anyone or anything else until he had accomplished his task. He pounded on the door with two firm strikes of his closed right fist, visibly shaking the door as he did so.
“Come in!” McDaniel called from the other side of the door. Walters entered, and held the door open just long enough for his attorney to slip through before allowing it to close.
None of the three men who waited outside could overhear the conversation happening inside McDaniel’s chamber. The ride to and from his lawyer’s office had apparently allowed Walters to regain some control over his emotions, and while he still seemed angry, it was now contained just underneath the surface.

Story: Colonel Williams, Ch. 7, pt. VI

They stood there for a minute in silence. Alejandro was the first to speak. “I am guessing that he did not help us,” he said in Spanish.
Williams smiled at Alejandro’s understatement. “No,” Williams replied, “I’m afraid not.”
“What are we going to do, now?” Alejandro asked.
“Let’s try our luck downstairs. Maybe someone down there knows what’s going on,” Williams responded. He started to head back to the stairs, and translated the brief conversation for Roderick as they made their way down.
Upon arriving at the first floor, Williams headed straight for the office of Judge McDaniel. The door was shut, and Williams knocked, hoping that his friend might know something about Terrance Walters or his whereabouts.
“Come in,” McDaniel’s voice called from the other side of the door.
The three of them entered. Judge McDaniel looked up from his paperwork as they entered and smiled in greeting. “Bill, good to see you! What brings you to this part of town so early in the day?”
Williams quickly summarized the situation for his friend. “We know that he lives somewhere east of here because we saw him take the east road out of town,” he concluded. “We also know that he came in here right after leaving the market. We were hoping that maybe you had seen him or heard him.”
McDaniel motioned for them to be seated. “I think I’ve met the man you’re looking for,” he said; “he was in here about twenty minutes ago. It all started when I heard a man angrily storm into the building. I’m guessing that he went straight for the police department, since a minute or so later, I heard him arguing with Officer Creedy.
“ ‘You are sure that you can’t help me, Officer Creedy?’ the man, whom I later realized was Walters asked. He sounded frustrated.
“ ‘No, sir,’ Creedy replied, ‘I can’t. There’s no law against what he’s done, and while it’s not right, I can’t do anything to help you.’
“ ‘Surely there must be something,’ Walters argued. ‘Disorderly conduct, fraud, negligence, something…’
“ ‘Well, if there is, I’m not aware of it. You might want to take that up with Judge McDaniel. He’s our resident expert on the law around here.’
“ ‘Very well,’ Walters said, ‘I will. I’m disappointed that you can’t help me, Officer. Do you realize how much I could “help” the police department?’
“Creedy didn’t take the bait for the bribe. ‘The best help you can give the department, Mr. Walters,’ he said firmly, ‘is to obey the law. That will make our job a little bit easier.’
“ ‘You won’t help me, then?’ Walters queried.
“ ‘It’s not that I won’t sir,’ Creedy responded; ‘it’s that I can’t. My job deals with people who have broken the law. Mr. Johnson hasn’t broken any laws, at least as far as I can see. Like I said, your best bet is to talk to Judge McDaniel. He’d know if there’s anything you can do.’
“ ‘Very well,’ Walters said. ‘Where do I find this Judge McDaniel?’

Story: Colonel Williams, Ch. 7, pt. V

“What’s the hurry?” the clerk asked, intrigued, his gruff manner yielding slightly to a sarcastic playfulness. This was the first time in two weeks anyone had wandered into his office. He had a lot of grumpiness he wanted to get out. “Does he owe you money?”

“No,” Roderick answered, hesitating slightly, unsure of how much he ought to say, “but he may be able to help us locate this man’s wife.” He motioned to Alejandro.
“The man you’re after ran off with this man’s wife?” the clerk exclaimed, clearly enjoying being as difficult as he could.
“Look, sir,” Williams said, “we’re trying to be reasonable here. We want to find this man and talk with him about someone he purchased at Johnson’s market last week. We think he will want to talk with us about the matter.”
“This man’s wife bought someone that ran off with the man you seek?” the clerk said, deliberately misunderstanding.
“No.” Williams said with frustration. “We’re looking for the address of a Mr. Terrance Walters. Now, will you help us or not?”
The clerk looked Williams in the eye. “I’m not going to do anything to help anyone, Mister. My job is to take care of the records and release them only to those who need them. I can’t just hand out information willy-nilly. That would be irresponsible.”
“But surely you can help us.” Williams exclaimed. “We’re talking about reuniting a man with his wife! Is that not worth it?”
The clerk shrugged. “Worth it? Maybe. What do I care if some man can’t find his wife? Maybe he’s better off without her if he let her get sold into slavery, I mean, servitude.” He said the last word with a sarcastic propriety.
Williams was glad that Alejandro did not know enough English to understand that last comment. “The whole family was sold into slavery,” Williams explained, “and I was able to rescue this man. Now, we’re trying to find the rest of this family, and we’re convinced that Mr. Walters is the one who bought his wife.”
“Well, rescuing slaves,” the clerk retorted, “aren’t you special? Tell you what, Mister, the next time you feel like doing your ‘good deed of the day’, pick someone who knows where he can find his wife. That’ll keep you from hassling me and keeping from getting my work done. Now get out of here before I call the police.”
“But,” Williams began.
“Go!” the clerk yelled, standing up from behind his desk.
Williams and Roderick quickly scrambled out, Roderick grabbed Alejandro as they exited, just as the clerk stomped over to the door melodramatically and slammed it firmly shut.

Story: Colonel Williams, Ch. 7, pt. IV

They walked on to the Municipal Building. Entering through the main door, they walked up to the third floor. In the back corner of the floor sat the land office, a small room that was packed to near capacity with piles of paper. Its sole occupant was a clerk who maintained the records of who owned what within the town and the nearby region.
The clerk, a bored, spectacled old man, glanced in their direction as they entered. “Can I help you, gentlemen?” he asked in a brusque manner, not looking up from his work.
“Yes, sir,” Williams replied, “at least I hope so. We’re looking for information regarding Mr. Terrance Williams. We were wondering if you might know where we might find him.”
The clerk looked up from the paperwork in front of him. “Do I look like a tour guide?” he asked testily. “I don’t give directions.”
“We aren’t looking for directions,” Williams countered. “We simply wish to locate him. We have an important matter to discuss with him.”
“If the matter is so important,” the clerk responded, “why didn’t he tell you how to get to his estate?”
“He doesn’t realize that we’re seeking him,” Williams answered, “and we tried twice to catch up with him. Both times, he moved too quickly for us.”
“Well,” the clerk said, “you should learn to move a little more quickly yourself. If he’s not interested in telling you how to locate him, I’m not terribly interested in helping you, either.”
“Please, sir,” Roderick broke in, “it’s imperative that you help us. We must find this man and find him soon.”

Story: Colonel Williams, Ch. 7, pt. III

Roderick and Alejandro caught up with Williams a few moments later. They had taken a less direct route and had avoided the unpleasantness that Williams had endured.
“I didn’t catch up to him,” Williams informed them sadly, translating the remark in Spanish when it was clear Alejandro did not understand.
“So, what do we do now?” Alejandro asked in Spanish.
“We have his name,” Williams replied, “so maybe we can go to the Municipal Building and look up his name in the local land records. Perhaps we can find his address.”
“If he is looking for slaves, then he probably lives on a farm, though,” Alejandro said. “Will he be in those records?”
“I don’t know, but we have to try.” Williams answered. “It’s the only option we have. Follow me.” He started walking towards the Municipal Building. As he did so, he explained his idea to Roderick.
An idea occurred to Williams. “Was the man you saw the one who bought your wife or the one who bought your daughter?” he asked Alejandro.
“It was the one who bought my wife,” Alejandro responded. He turned his downward and strolled forward, thinking.
They walked in silence over to the Municipal Building, all of them discouraged. As they neared their destination, they heard the clopping of horse hooves and the rattling of the stagecoach wheels. It was rapidly approaching them; its occupant clearly was in a hurry.
As the coach sped past them, they all recognized the man riding inside of it. It was Walters! Apparently he had just left the Municipal Building after conducting some sort of business there. Where he was going now was a mystery, but the road he was on led to the east, an area with few farms. Alejandro tried to run after the cart to stop it, but Walters’ errand appeared to be very pressing. No one could have caught the coach at its present speed.
“If only we had driven over the building instead of walking!” Williams exclaimed in frustration. “We might have been able to follow him.”
“We still might find record of him in the land office,” Roderick reminded Williams, “and even if we don’t, someone in the Municipal Building might be able to tell us more about him. He seems to have just come from there.